Flailings Of The Wilker Bros
by Corpse In Bright Clothing
Summary: Essentially, some Reese/Malcolm poetry.
1. Sideways

Flailings_ is brought to you today by poxmaker; he demanded I write Reese/Malcolm poetry, and I bashed my head in for not thinking of it sooner. Have a quick, fun, starting-out poem.  
_

* * *

**Sideways**

* * *

Reese twists and turns, flies crooked; Malcolm sways.  
Recklessly spins till sick; from directness strays.  
Undermining; hateful blockade decays.  
Undressing; teasing, daring, play.  
That's it; they don't care what you say.  
They're brothers and they swing that way.


	2. Struggle

_Here we have our second one, woohoo!__ This flailing, obscure style is the kind of thing I write more often.  
_

* * *

**Struggle  
**

* * *

Is it simple? Is it  
complicated? The  
force that grinds us together -  
in love? - in uncontrollable aggression?

Force. Self-destructive. Builds us a bomb  
shelter, a tunnel, a warren.  
All beast, we dig, tear up the surface;  
bleed. Suck  
on death, then crave it,  
always restless, sleepless.  
dreamless.  
Are we worthless?

Perpetually we dive; cliffs falling into shallow water.  
Live and discover oblivion; we  
dissolve into each other's arms.


	3. Scrounge

_Notes: Hoody Hoot && Fwee._

* * *

**Scrounge**

* * *

Sheets askew and hair disheveled,  
Did not for long in pleasure revel,  
Swiftly escaped the pesky spell  
You're under where you hardly tell:  
Into infinity you fit,  
And in silence you fare;  
No, you just creep to get  
Your underwear; your brother  
Smirks, says, "Leave it."


	4. Springer

_This is inspired by my upcoming Reese/Malcolm story, to feature copious amounts of ANGST && FLUFF.  
_

* * *

**Springer**

* * *

You wonder what your brother sees, and  
hope; your heart is going. Your  
pain's a river flowing from the trunk of a tree.  
You are kicking not to die.

Voice broke' you choke.  
Not blind he finds:  
ardor harbored, your  
tender adoration.  
It shows; he knows.

To you he says, you're all I see, and  
now, your heart is glowing. Your  
love's a tuft of cotton floating loftily in the breeze.  
You are lying in the sky.


	5. pt 1: Mally

**Mally**

* * *

I know I'm stupid, I know!  
But I know how I feel.  
I know better than to let it show,  
The danger would be real.

I thought you were a genius, Mally,  
I thought you would see, but  
You won't.  
I kind of hate this feeling, Mally,  
I kind of hate you, but  
I don't.

I the opposite of hate you,  
And I really want to ...


	6. pt 2: Reeses Cup

**Reeses Cup  
**

* * *

If there was ever proof that you were stupid ...

Mally? Really? Mally? That's a new one.  
I'll think of one for you when I'm done.

I knew you wrote poems but didn't expect one like that.  
Although you wouldn't figure I'd search your backpack.  
And oh you won't believe I was only ... nevermind.

Anyway, I can't think of a more  
appropriate way to deal with this, and  
I'm leaving this in your locker door  
so there's no way you'll possibly miss it.

You know you're not as stupid as you think.  
If you were, then wouldn't your poetry stink?  
Pretty much, and hey, it doesn't,  
at least as far as I can tell, and  
as far as the two of us dating? Well ...  
not so likely, but it wouldn't be too unpleasant.

And if you let anyone else get their hands on this,  
I swear I'll kill you both  
and then myself,  
after I put your organs on a shelf.  
Am I kidding? Well, I'm sure you want to find out.  
But test me, and you'll quickly  
have no doubt! ...

Oh yeah, and I love you,  
too, idiot.


	7. Coming To

**Coming To  
**

* * *

The realization you want to lick your brother  
is a roller coaster like no other;  
stomach sickness only gets better  
when you get underneath his sweater.

Loving each other as more than two brothers  
is breath of the life violence usually smothers.  
Drown in yourself and others as you hide it;  
arise again when you shine in private.


	8. Blown It

_Yay for ambiguity!_

* * *

**Blown It  
**

* * *

You await the pounding -  
being laid back as you take it -  
the beating; you deserve it.

You've gone too far this time; you can see  
it in his strange silence, stillness.  
You want him to move, just do something!  
But in his eyes you can see what you've done.

You grab hard, push yourself onto him -  
asking for something, begging for more -  
he pushes away.

You keep going;  
he shouts,  
"You've blown it!  
You've blown it!"


	9. Nightmare

_You would have a happier poem to read by now, but my reading of poxmaker's _Already Gone_ took that away from you. ;P  
_

* * *

**Nightmare  
**

* * *

I guess it's okay for you to get your way.  
Just leave me alone no matter all the words I say.

I don't understand that you would want to break my heart.  
I don't understand that we could ever live apart.  
Yet you're abandoning me, say that you're flying free.

We fight; that's a given. It's natural; give in:  
you'll find you're not perfect with anyone else.  
I know I'm not, but I'm better with you. When  
I beg you to reconsider  
you won't; just leave me.

I guess it's okay for you to get your way.  
Just have to make me feel better when I come awake.


	10. Shovel

**Shovel**

* * *

Losing their guts, they fall abrupt  
inside the hole they're digging up.

They're in too deep, falling asleep.  
They hang on hope in a fraying rope.

The light they carried now is buried.  
Depression's a shovel, makes them empty.

Boy on his own sees himself as unfit,  
but together they find all is worth it.

For as long as their hearts don't stop  
they guess they fill each other up.


	11. pt 3: Suicide, I Guess

**Suicide, I Guess  
**

* * *

You've brought me up from my bloody knees,  
and thrown me up to share in your breeze.  
Your love shocked me like a Pikachu.  
But I'm so pissed I can't stand to look at you.

I don't know what you expected after your poem,  
after you read mine, invading my privacy.  
My poems are my soul on paper, only I can show 'em.  
Know why? S'because that's private!

Also, I'm happy, but I'm not; it's not enough.  
I needed - I need it, but it's not enough: your love.  
But soon we'll have exactly what I need.  
You'll see; oh, everyone will see. ...


	12. pt 4: Zombification

**Zombification  
**

* * *

I ... can't ... even ...

I now realize convincing you you're not stupid  
uninhibited you from any of your self-doubt,  
subsequently allowing you to make enough copies of my poem to  
successfully put one in every locker, and both of us _out_.  
Unprecedented; I didn't think you were that ...

I know by now how much you hurt over this;  
my pain doubles yours, doubles you over.

Suicide, indeed.

Murder-suicide to be precise. And I  
don't even ... Because I read your poem? Because  
you couldn't handle ... when I said it  
would have been difficult for us to date?  
There's so much I could say; none of it's worth it.

... Excepting:  
You kind of gave us no option, so,  
what the hell, let's go for it!


	13. Apocalypse Tonight

_Thirteen already. Warning: this might be the darkest I'll get in these poems. If you hate it, you can blame poxmaker and his review for _Blown It, _which made me see it in a different way that stuck with me until I could get it out here. If you love it, then you have poxmaker and the song _Born To Quit_ to thank_, _because without both of them I would have given up on this._

* * *

**Apocalypse Tonight**

* * *

And now the sky is black and threatening over  
valleys so suddenly red. Your arms are extensions  
of the rage you can't explain and can't contain;  
they fly like axes and fell your brother like a tree.

You always hate yourself by now, but this time  
it's worse. Call in the hearse. You see the gloss of  
the eyes that see nothing now. Death glistens.

You curse his corpse as you try to beat  
the life into him like you beat it out.  
You lean, and you press, and you beg his lips  
to move. You love a ghost now, you suppose, and  
scream against your common sense. Hugging his  
chest, you seek to bring the heat that's quickly leaving.  
You fall inside him, shake him, try to make him  
move! He's inanimate now; he's gone and you know it.  
You know. You know. You know. You don't. You don't know  
anything. You blink, blink, blink and dry your eyes.

You fall, and you bawl, for he sees you again, he moves.  
He says your name; you curse yourself; you cannot move.  
Your desperate attempt to get what you want by doing nothing  
is coming afterward. He's climbed on top of you.  
He calls, and calls, and you can only cry and shake your head.  
For all that you knew in the world was your lover was dead.

Finally you're slapped out of it, and  
suddenly awake in your bed.  
As you're holding each other, you and your brother,  
neither of you come to realize a  
malevolent part of you met its damned end that night.


	14. Burning Butterflies

**Burning Butterflies  
**

* * *

Well, your outlook was shattered; when  
you fight, it's so easy and natural, but when  
it's simple between you two, it's  
complicated within just you.  
You're burning up inside.

Actually talking is ... different, somehow  
too much. Yet you refuse to see  
the flutt'ry sensation beneath  
is need.

You catch a scowl but can only see those  
butterflies behind his eyes, imagine  
wings of crystalline caress his skull.  
Pained, beautiful, imperfect - you crack.  
He has what you have, but you've had what he's had.  
Oh, possibility; you war against delusion.  
You can't breathe.

* * *

_[A/N] third to last line: I love it, think it's brilliant, and feel so obliged as to make sense of it for you. After mentions of the other having butterflies, "He has what you have" could essentially be saying, "You have butterflies," and you can interpret the rest as you wish. Or: "He has what you have" is referring to them being of the same gender and/or having the same genes, while "but you've had what he's had" could be referring to the fact that they've both had girlfriends; "Sure, you're both guys, and he may seem 'straight,' having had girlfriends, but you're 'gay' and have had girlfriends, so-" Although that's pretty longwinded, and simply not as awesome._


	15. Catatonia Livid

**Catatonia Livid  
**

* * *

Ashes black and sundry mellow,  
wondrous how your love is yellow;  
all along the wall it's shining,  
wondrous, but your sight is broken,  
your mouth is swollen,  
your heart is slowin' ...

Bruised and blue, your heart, it's mashing,  
last glimmers of light it's smashing;  
into your cave you're going,  
away from painful knowing ...

Sun comes when sobs are heaving,  
and soon you're disbelieving;  
perhaps you will be leaving,  
if only to kill Stevie ...


	16. Dismember Always

**Dismember Always  
**

* * *

There are always the questions of:  
Are you alive? Are we  
more than somnambulists? Why  
the deathly disposition - Well:

I'm teething underneath your skin;  
I'm grinning and - you're laughing - when  
you're bleeding: It's the most brilliant thing;  
we're dying.

Now our tongues you've glued together,  
meshed our hearts and mind - souls too.  
You've ravaged my insides, caused my blood to flee.  
Just pull all the stitches,  
heart seams; you'll see: I'm blue.

Comprehend your enigma - still don't  
sing the words for it; you know ...  
I wonder ...  
if you feel at all.  
I have - you give - so little.  
I dismember you.


	17. Extricating Sanity

**Extricating Sanity  
**

* * *

We're cement heads and paste-for-brains;  
blue and yellow; drowning, flying; Reese and Malcolm,  
gone insane.

Holding hands, we jump the cliff, and never end.

Screams and lip-locks, pulling hair,  
we're something that shouldn't be there.

We're touching toes and punching holes,  
and making fire  
that's smothered.

Falling from light, dying in delight,  
we're breaking in and breaking down,  
apocalyptic souls in flight.

Out of our minds, we're finally free,  
and starting over.  
Outside we pitch it like a joke; we both  
are really lying.

We are, in cold,  
dead seriousness, in love.


	18. Poetry

**Poetry**

* * *

Oh perfect love of ours called sin,  
Altruism seen not within,  
Beautiful poetry they miss,  
When we the Wilkerson brothers kiss.

Express love they abominate,  
Try to the truth illuminate,  
Our darkness sate with shreds of hope,  
Through all their hate manage to cope.

Best savor brushings of our skin,  
Let not our blind oppressors win,  
Drop roses in a deep abyss,  
But hold closest moments of bliss.

Simply because we chose to date,  
Our very souls they oft berate,  
Beyond attempts to live, not mope,  
They show us trees and offer rope.

Faced with utmost unfair a war,  
We simply, ceaselessly adore,  
Though one another we even shove,  
Best is our unadulterated love.


End file.
